CHAPTER XXIII. 



With the morning, we arose from om- conch thoroughly 

 refreshed, not a vestige of fatigue, aclie or languor remain- 

 ing. We sadly shook hands with John, and he started on 

 his long way alone across the lakes, down the winding and 

 lonely streams and over the hard carries, toward Stickney 

 Camp, and on to his home,— only to come back again in a 

 few days, with other sojourners in the wilderness, but not 

 to be "Our John" again, perhaps, for many, many a day, 

 perhaps never. May the years rest lightly on his wise head 

 and on the brave true heart! And may the last "carry" he 

 makes, as he goes to the Unknown Shore, be easy and light, 

 and bring him safe to a good "Camp", where there shall be 

 no night nor storm! 



We availed ourselves of an opportunity to make the 

 ascent of Blue .AEountain with a party of gentlemen at the 

 hotel, and their guides. The mountain rises nearly 4000 

 feet above the level of the sea, and is a conspicuous figure 

 in the landscape for many miles, from every direction. We 

 had gazed upon its brow bathed in blue, when on Bald 

 Mountain. We had seen it when out upon Raquette Lake. 

 We had caught glimpses of it on winding streams. It now 

 reared its huge front right above us. The mystery which 

 seemed to dwell on the rugged heights fascinated us the 

 more, the nearer we approached this grand Sphynx of the 



wilderness. 



